A Boy's Night Out
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: filler for Ability. Post episode. Hints of Bolivia.


**FRINGE**

**A Boy's Night Out**

_No in__FRiNGEment intended. _

_Note: __post AbilitY. One-shot = Please R & R ;)  
_

-o-

Olivia rapped on the door and waited in the dark, her eyes to the floor, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, contemplating last day's events. She was ready to knock again when Peter opened the door in his boxer shorts. His eyes were puffy, and the sheet had left marks on the left side of his face and on his arm. He rubbed his stubble absently and blinked.

"Hey there… what time is it? Excuse me if I don't turn on the lights. I don't want to wake Walter up. But if you're willing to give it a try, be my guest," he scolded.

"Err… very funny, I'll pass, but thanks for the gentle reminder. You were asleep?" She checked her wrist watch. It was still early. Not even 2:00 am.

"Sort of," he shrugged with this what-do-you-care air written on face. "Walter was so happy we could make it that he literally crashed as soon as we got back to the hotel. I figured that since you'd rather spend the evening with Jones, I should as well go to bed too and catch up." He stepped forward and leant against the door. "You okay? Something's wrong?" He stared and tried to read her face.

"Jones's gone," she said in such a soft voice he almost missed it.

"What do you mean gone? They transferred him to the hospital didn't they?"

"Absolutely. Five minutes after I called him from the 47th floor of that building on Church St."

She was swaying slightly now, her hands pressed together in front of her, her face blank.

"And?"

"And he's gone," she said again, biting her lower lip with a guilty stare.

"What do you mean he's gone? He could barely move, there's no fucking way he could have simply walked away!" Peter said, scratching his belly.

Olivia's eyes locked on his hand. "I never said he walked away. He smashed into the hospital wall and vanished."

"Okay. Let me get dressed, we're going to need more than five drinks to clear that up. Come on in. I'll be ready in five."

-o-

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but from the top of my head I can count at least thirty times that you barged in my hotel room in the middle of the night."

Peter was in the passenger's seat, with his head resting on the cool window. His voice was hoarse from lack of sleep and he looked even scruffier than his usual.

"Probably more," she said. "I didn't strictly barged in…"

He nodded. "Apologies accepted."

"… but I needed you at the hospital so that you can make up your own mind about Jones' escape." She glanced at him with a smile and back to the road.

"If you insist on keeping it that way, I must definitely rent a flat," he stated, his forefinger punching into the dashboard adamantly.

"Why's that?"

"You wouldn't happen to have some gum would you, my breath is terrible," he asked, purposely ignoring her question.

"Try the glove compartment," she chuckled, playing along. Peter needed a moment to find a good reason to go back to the must-have-my-own-flat issue.

"So that I can stay home every time you decide to discuss a case at three in the morning obviously," he stated, fidgeting inside the compartment. "I give you that it's not every night that someone is going to pull a David Copperfield on the FBI, but I guess you'll need my help in other… instances, eventually."

"I guess you're right. What about Walter then? I'm confident that he can function as a responsible adult some day, but he's not quite there yet."

"Then I could rent a house, as long as it's big enough for the both of us."

"Sounds better already."

"And cheaper than a suite at the hotel."

"I thought that you could care less about throwing expenses. Astrid told me about an order for baboon seminal fluid. Any constructive idea?"

"Nope. I could elaborate obviously, but you gotta grill Walter on that one."

"I will."

"Hey Dunham, I'm not dropping the idea just yet. I really need to have my independence back, well sort of."

"You will. Your taking care of Walter is only temporary, we had that conversation before."

"Yes, we did, months ago. Didn't change a thing though. Consider this. Should I have my apartment, no need to go to a bar after hours. It's not unusual to keep some Jack Daniel and additional alcoholic beverages at one's home to entertain one's friend. We could exchange ideas about all the cases you want without having to fear any indiscretion from a bar patron."

"You're right," she grinned, "I shall look into it."

"So you said, numerous times. And see where it got us? We're heading to wherever we're heading in the middle of the night because I still share a hotel suite with my father. Please don't tell me that you're driving me back to room 141?"

"We're going to my place. Unless you prefer we go to the lab. I keep some French wine in my office."

"Really? It's good to know. No, your home's fine. You sure Rachel won't mind?"

"She's back to Philly. In the end, she's decided against moving to Boston and being near her big sister. Actually, she wants her big sister and her problems as far away from her and Ella as possible."

"Well, you can't blame her."

"I don't blame her but I miss the company."

"There's always another arrangement you could look into. You can rent the Bishops your two spare rooms. I can cook. You already know that Walter can prove to be very entertaining. And we'll share expenses."

"You're persistent , I must give you that. Wait… You're not being serious, are you?"

"Don't mind me. I'm jet lagged from too much sleep in a single twenty four hour period. And you're right, I can't rent a room from you. You're my boss. That would be considered nepotism."

"I'm not sure it works that way, but among other things, yes."

"Okay, that was weird. Back to business. Tell me everything about Jones."

-o-

"That's not much," he said. "And the agents posted outside of the room couldn't see squat either."

"I know, but that's all we got. He didn't use the teleportation device this time, or if he did, it went really wrong. But one thing is clear, there's no way he pulled that one off alone."

She filled their glasses. "Well, it seems that Jack's gone too," she chuckled shaking the empty bottle. Next stop, Mexico, I'm pretty sure that I have a bottle of tequila somewhere, but I'm not sure about lemon."

"Maybe we could stay put in Tennessee," he said. "Aren't you supposed to work tomorrow?"

"Aren't you supposed to work?" she repeated with a sly smile.

"It's Sunday."

"Oh, I don't have to work either…"

"Really? When did that ever stop you before? I, on the contrary, can choose to go to work or not, I'm only a consultant. For all I know, I could dose Walter and lock him in his closet and fly to Miami for the week end. Or if I'm feeling crazy, I'll take him for a best in Boston muffin and salt water taffy tour."

She started giggling but put her hands on her head and closed her eyes. "Ooh," she moaned, "I should have married that hippie guy who was into knitting back in high school instead of enlisting. I would have started a family by now."

"Yeah, and gone through a bad divorce and suffered a nervous breakdown from working your ass off in two different jobs that you can't stand only to put your kids to college. What is it that you're not telling me? Obviously, you've been beating about the bush all night. Get it off your chest. You know you can trust me right?"

She gave him a hesitant look. If she thought that alcohol might relax her, she felt even more reluctant to open up now that she was having this fuzzy perspective. "Nina called me."

"When?"

"Last night, after I dealt with Jones hospital stunt. I was back home and having a hard time adjusting." She stretched her legs under the coffee table and fiddled with a loose thread on her thigh. "To be perfectly honest, I was going to call you about that drink…"

"But in the end you chose to wait until two in the morning; certainly you're not going to flunk on me now?"

"You remember Nina Sharp told me that William Bell studied the effects of Cortexiphan on a test group in Ohio? Well, it turns out she was misinformed. She did some research and found out ultimately that there was another test group. In Jacksonville, Florida."

He whistled through his teeth. "Where your father was stationed…"

"Yep."

"I'm sorry Liv," he said, brushing her arm with his hand.

"Not nearly as much as I am. And all that time I was expecting that you were the one who turned that darn lights out," she had a crooked smile and shrugged.

"Maybe I did. Maybe we did. Together."

She glanced at him with a puzzled look.

"Why not?" he continued. "Think about it. We know that Walter experimented on me as a child and it's no secret either that he was working with Bell at the time. They might have tried Cortexiphan on me too. After all, I was his personal test subject. I'm sure that I can find out if you want me to."

"How's that? He probably won't remember anyway."

"First Jones said that they needed a spinal tap to find out if you really were a Cortexiphan child. We could start from there. Ask Walter to give me one and find out what they were searching for."

"Oh, I see."

"And then, we have the box."

"The box?"

"Jones' bundle of joy box. We tried only the first test. It might be time to test the nine we've left. Only _we_ try them, --you and me together this time. What do you say?"

"I'm too tired to give you any intelligent answer right now." She closed her eyes and snuggled against the back of the couch, and squeezed a cushion in her arms.

"You're too drunk, that's the word you're looking for," he smiled. "I shall get going. I have to get some sleep before Walter finds a new way to start my day."

"You can sleep over if you want to," she said in a seductive voice with her eyes closed, drifting into oblivion.

"Not a good idea Dunham. When you're sober, we shall discuss that one, but not tonight."

He was rewarded by a soft snore. He went to her room to retrieve a blanket and covered her with it. He kissed the top of her head. "Night, Liv," he whispered. He was on his way to the front door when he changed his mind and went back to the living room. He got out a pied origami cow from his coat pocket and sat it on the coffee table before her. He scribbled a note and left.

Olivia woke up at the sound of the door slamming. Immediately, she spotted paper Gene and reached out to the note.

"Happy Valentine's day, Olivia," she read.

-o-

_Never too late for __a valentine fic ;)_


End file.
